


Faux pas de deux

by lexlee20



Series: A little night music [1]
Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: F/M, foreskin, hatoful boyfic, ocarina, virgins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexlee20/pseuds/lexlee20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A Le Bel should never be enslaved by his passions, he'd always been told. And now here he was a disinherited nobody, and a barbarian girl was making him whimper like a fork scraping an empty plate. Worst of all, he was enjoying it.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feet to the flames

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a hatofulkink prompt: "Hiyoko/Sakuya — First time awkwardness! And some cuddling after, maybe?" All human characters; follows Sakuya's non-BBL ending.

In the morning, even before school started, a courier delivered the formal documents of disinheritance to Hiyoko's cave. She had slept less soundly than usual, since Sakuya had taken at least half of her sleeping furs and bundled up in them by the fireside. Every time she woke up and peeked out of her sleeping alcove, there he was, sitting perfectly upright and staring into the flames.

So there were the papers, a thick sheaf with occasional clumps of notary stamps and wax seals. Still sitting by the fire, Sakuya took them without a word, read the cover letter, and passed it to Hiyoko so she could read it too. She winced.

"Do you wish me to convey any response?" the courier asked.

Sakuya shook his head and continued reading the next sheet. The courier nodded slowly and left.

"Um. Sakuya, do you want any meat for breakfast? It's good."

He lifted his head and just looked at her, expressionless. When she handed the cover letter back to him, he fed it into the fire. As she chewed on the roast meat, he continued reading and burning the papers, one by one. He was less than halfway through by the time she tidied up, packed her school bag, and put her shoes on.

"Aren't you coming to school? ...or, I guess you'd rather stay in today, huh?"

Disinherited or not, Sakuya still performed a magnificently Gallic shrug. Another page flared and burned.

"Ooookay then. There's some cold meat and extra firewood over there if you need it."

\---

When Hiyoko got back from school, there was no sign that Sakuya had moved at all, other than to finish burning the papers. His hair and the furs bundled around him all had a fine, powdery layer of ash, and his eyes were red and dry.

She sighed, filled a pitcher from the spring outside the cave, and sat down at his side. She expected him to resist or at least glare at her when she pulled away some of the furs, but he didn't. "Look, you can't go on like this," she said softly, dabbing a handkerchief into the pitcher to wipe his face. "At least drink some water, or even take your boots off. Say something. Anything."

His red eyelids dipped downward, and his taut shoulders trembled for a moment. One hand lifted to cradle hers against his cheek, and she had to lean closer to hear the whisper from his parched lips. "Hiyoko. You were right. This is the right thing to do. I want-- I _need_ to play music, and that's more important than anything else. But it still hurts. My father-- he's angry that I won't obey him. I tried, but I can't. I didn't want to disappoint him...."

"You tried," she murmured into his hair. "It's not your fault. You can't change what you love just by trying."

"No." He took the damp handkerchief from her, shook it out, and neatly draped it over a dry log. "I-- " His glance flickered at her and away again, like the brush of a moth's wing. "I'm thirsty. And cold. C-- could you make some tea?"

\--

Sakuya watched her move away to fetch and fill a teakettle. He realized he was being rude, but he didn't really know how to make polite requests. He'd never had to be polite to anyone. The heir to the house of Le Bel only had to give commands, and they would be obeyed. But now he no longer held that position. He was no longer the heir. He was only... himself.

At frist, he'd scorned Hiyoko as a mere barbarian girl, and it was true that she lacked the willowy elegance of his mother and the other women in society. But she had her own beauty-- a strong, feral grace like the predators whose pelts she wore. And she was practical, and capable, and he needed her strength to shore up his crumbling world.

He waited for her to balance the teakettle over the fire before he spoke again. "I may require assistance to remove my boots. If-- if you please."

Thankfully, she looked amused, not offended. "Really? I guess they are pretty serious boots-- those tight laces go all the way up to your knees, like little leg corsets."

"They do. Also," he reluctantly admitted, "my legs are asleep. I cannot move them."

She actually giggled, which intensified as he twitched and yelped his way through the pins and needles while she worked on his bootlaces. By the time the first boot was off, he had different reasons for agitation: disturbingly primal, barbarian-like thoughts about the way she was kneeling at his feet as he lay propped up on his elbows.

He pulled an extra sleeping fur over his lap and cursed his tight breeches, as well as the fact that he wasn't even sure what he wanted her to do. He had some vague notions, due to some unwanted glimpses of Yuuya's porn stash, but Father had always been very stern about warning Sakuya against imprudent liaisons. Sakuya had expected to wait for some arranged alliance that would be worthy of the house of Le Bel. But all of that was gone now.

The second boot finally came off, along with one sock stuck inside it. She wrinkled her nose. "Your noble feet are stinky, monsieur."

"Nonsense," he said with a perfectly straight face. "They have the bouquet of a fine, well-aged Roquefort."

She snorted. "A fine, well-aged Roquefort with sock lint stuck between the toes. You are not putting these feet back into my sleeping furs. Hold still," she added, pouring some warm water onto her hankerchief.

"Wha--?" His question cut off as she started to wipe his bare foot.

"Hold still," she repeated, curling one of her legs over his ankle. "I'll try not to tickle you."

Tickling was the last thing on his mind. He thumped entirely onto his back, stared at the ceiling, and tried to think of England. Or Wales. Or Ireland. Any green, pleasant, utterly generic landscape that would distract him from her firm grip on his flesh, the warm moist pressure attentively sweeping across his skin, the softness of her inner thigh behind his heel....

He flung one arm over his eyes (which were starting to cross) and resigned himself to the exquisite torments of hell.

She pulled off his remaining sock. "Time for the next one," she said cheerfully.


	2. Wardrobe check

Sakuya woke several hours later, ignominiously rolled into a corner. As he squirmed against the wall, Hiyoko waved to him from the fireside, where she was stirring a pot of soup. "Sorry," she called over. "I had to get you out of the way so I could sweep the ashes. I think you passed out as soon as you closed your eyes, after being awake all night."

He managed a noncommittal nod and tried to extricate himself from the sleeping furs. The ends of his tailcoat were hopelessly entangled, so he shrugged off the sleeves and staggered upright without it. As he'd expected, the cave floor was cold under bootless feet, but not as glacial as he'd feared. It was partially insulated with woven grass mats. And furthermore...

He padded over to Hiyoko. "Why," he demanded, "am I wearing fuzzy orange socks?"

"Yuuya sent them."

Sakuya exhaled very slowly. "And why," he demanded, "am I wearing _Sakazaki_ 's fuzzy orange socks?"

She grinned. "He gave me a bundle of clothes for you. He said that they were old holiday presents that he's never worn. They're in my sleeping alcove if you want to change."

"If there are any non-fuzzy non-orange socks, I should certainly prefer those." Sakuya stalked away again.

As little as he liked the idea of his half-brother's cast-offs, they were better than remaining in what he'd already worn for the past two days. The clothing seemed decent enough-- assorted daywear, pajamas, and an ordinary uniform jacket-- with the exception of those utterly reprehensible socks.

The uniform jacket had a sharp papery rustle in the breast pocket. It was a long, neatly folded envelope with a note from Yuuya.

"Dear little brother: I've never used these, so you needn't fear any mongrel fleas leaping onto you. I do hope that you and Miss Tousaka will enjoy them. _Bons baisers!_ "

Sakuya glowered at the orange socks on his feet, despite Hiyoko's demonstrated enjoyment of them. There was still something else inside the envelope, though. He shook it upside-down and gaped at the foil packets that came tumbling out.

Condoms. In assorted festive colors and flavors.

They had _flavors_?!

\---

Hiyoko blinked at the incomprehensible, indignant French spluttering behind the curtain, and ladled soup into another bowl. Eventually, Sakuya emerged from the alcove in fresh clothing, viciously crushing an envelope into his breast pocket. She patted a floor cushion beside her. "Here. Have some soup. Or tea. Or lip balm-- you look like you need it."

He licked his dry lips and poured himself some tea. His hands were shaking. She fetched the remaining furs from the alcove and draped most of them around his shoulders before starting on her own soup.

"Well," she finally said. "Do you think you'll want to go back to school? I talked to Mr. Nanaki, and he says you can continue to attend classes and use the music room."

Sakuya shrugged, then sighed. "The music room will be useful. And I must fulfill my sworn duties as student council president, after all. Unless Father has revoked my appointment."

"As the vice-president, I can just abdicate in your favor. At least if you're really interested in the student council, and it's not just another Le Bel thing. It's like playing music-- what do you want for yourself?"

He finished his soup, set the empty bowl by his feet, and traced its rim with one finger without looking at her. "At this moment, what I really want...." The sentence trailed off without an ending.

She waited. The fire crackled. He folded his arms back inside the furs and shook his head. "Never mind," he said.

"Okay then." She leaned forward, took his empty cup, and tapped his ankle. "I'll get you some different socks."

He flinched.


	3. Ocarina, mon amour

It took at least another week in the cave for Sakuya to work up the nerve-- a torturous week of after-dinner conversations that all ended the same way.

"Sakuya? I'm going to start on my homework now. Is there anything else you want?"

"...No."

And then for the rest of the evening, he would borrow her hichiriki or recorder to practice on, while surreptitiously watching her through the firelight.

He wanted to be closer to her, but couldn't convince himself to express it. It might be a breach of hospitality. He didn't know the right words. If she didn't share the same feelings, she could skin him like a rabbit and throw him over the cliff. Worst of all, she might laugh at him.

"Sakuya? It's getting late. Here, I got more furs out of storage for you-- are you sure you don't want to move into my sleeping alcove to stay out of the wind? Okay then-- is there anything else you want?"

"....No."

\---

After dinner, Hiyoko tossed the recorder over to Sakuya and sighed to herself. Considering how long he'd been pushed around by his father's expectations, he needed time to figure out what he wanted for himself. If he wanted to enclose himself in a shell while working that out, she shouldn't forcibly break him out of it before he was ready. But how long was he going to keep this up?

This time, Sakuya simply set the recorder down on the ground and sat there staring at it, rolling it back and forth with one fingertip. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she'd just automatically passed it over without asking. "Oh, sorry," she said. "Do you want the hichiriki instead? Or..."

His other hand curled into itself like a long-petalled flower reversing into bud. He shook his head, and began to slowly, irregularly pound the side of his fist against the ground.

"Hey." At first she was merely puzzled, then increasingly concerned. "Hey! Heyheyheyhey--" She lunged over and grabbed his arm to make him stop. When she peeled his hand back open, his fingernails had bitten deep red curves into his palm. "Don't do that to yourself!"

He glared at her and tried to pull away, but the way he was sitting didn't give him any leverage. "You said I could do anything I wanted."

"Except hurt yourself, dammit! Now cut it out before I have to knock you down and sit on you!"

He froze, with a very startled, oddly contemplative expression. His mouth opened, then closed again.

"And if I have to," she added more lightly, "I will tickle your feet until you pass out."

His silence intensified in an increasingly glazed-looking way.

She shook her head and turned her full attention back to his hand, rubbing the red marks out of his palm. "Aside from the general principle of not hurting yourself, you really can't do that to your hands if you're going to keep studying music. I know you've been holing yourself up with the piano at school; how are you going to play that, or most other instruments if you turn your hands into pulp?" His fingers were gradually losing their tension and relaxing in her grasp.

He still wasn't talking, but at least he wasn't cutting the conversation back off again either. She might as well keep going. "And besides," she murmured. "I love your hands. You have such long, elegant fingers. They're so graceful, even when you're using them to make insulting French gestures. And when you play music... remember when you were trying to figure out an ocarina in music class? I almost envied your ocarina-- you were holding it so gently, weighing its balance point in your palm and rubbing the glaze with your thumb before trying out the fingering. So much concentration focused on finding the right amount of pressure from your mouth to make it sing clearly..."

He made an odd, strangled noise in his throat and tried to pull back again. Crap, she thought. I'm embarrassing him. I shouldn't hit on him while he's staying here-- it's not fair to him if he thinks he'll be thrown out if he doesn't go along with it.

"So anyway," she concluded, patting his hand one last time before setting it down on her knee. "Your hands. Don't hurt them. Or the rest of yourself. End of lecture. Anything else?"

"You were... watching me play the ocarina? But I was terrible at it." He sounded completely bewildered.

"You were figuring it out for the first time, like everyone else. Do you want me to bring one home for you?"

He started to say something, but stopped.

"Sakuya? Sakuya, what do you want?"

"I... I think I... I want...."

"...Yes?"

"I think I want to kiss you," he blurted.

\---

Sakuya cringed at the indignity of his own words. Utter madness. Once they started to come out, he couldn't stop them. "I think I want to kiss you, but I don't know if you'll consent. So if you don't wish it, that's fine, so please don't club me over the head and leave me to die and don't hate me please I'm sorry."

"Oh," Hiyoko said, quite calmly. "Okay."

He stared at her, agape. "I pour out my soul to you, and all you can say is 'okay'? What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean okay, you can kiss me." She smiled, batted her eyelashes at him twice, and closed her eyes in an expectant, cheerful way.

He had to do this fast, before either one of them could change their minds. He dipped his face toward hers, but ducked away when his nose hit hers. When he tried again, he couldn't see where her mouth was once he got too close, and he had a dreadful feeling this would end with him fleeing into self-exile on Elba.

"Sakuya," she said, opening one eye. "You've never done this before, have you?"

"No." Were there any non-stop flights from here to Elba? "...wait. Do you mean that there's someone else you have kissed?"

He could feel the puff of air on his cheek from her snort of amusement. Before he could draw up a more formal protest, she slid her hands up into his hair and tilted his head to one side. "Hold still," she said, and kissed him.

\---

She'd meant it to just be a friendly face-bounce, but he must've been on the verge of saying something-- his mouth was slightly parted and his tonguetip flicked out against her lips, which created a shocking surge of excitement all the way down her spine. Her mouth opened too, and her arms slid down his back to pull him closer. There was an instant of free-falling bliss before he lost his balance and they both fell over.

"Ow!"

"I'm sorry, I should've--"

"I didn't hit my head, I'm fine--"

As they tried to untangle their legs, his knee slid up between her thighs. She moaned, and pulled his body back to hers again.

\---

"...Ouch!"

"What?"

"Nothing." It felt like she might've nipped his tongue, but it was probably accidental. Because if she'd done it deliberately to make him stop, then she would do it again harder to make sure, and she wasn't.

Their legs weren't tangled under themselves at uncomfortable angles anymore, but they weren't straightened out, either. One of her stocking feet was hooked into the seat of his trousers. If this meant death by wedgie, he would endure it gladly.

Her mouth tasted like udon, and her tongue against his was warm and alive in a delirious distillation of bliss, and his body seemed to be undergoing a synesthetic transformation into the complete works of Wagner. He slid his hands behind her waist and pulled her hips harder against his thigh between them. That did make her wrench her mouth away and bite him-- a long, pulsing moan with her teeth locked into his shirt shoulder.

Once she let go and fell back, he rolled his weight off to the side and leaned back on his elbow, waiting for her to stop panting and open her eyes. Meanwhile, he checked his shoulder to make sure it wasn't bleeding. "Well," she finally said, "we have kissed."

"Yes. We have."

"Do you want to do it again?"

Sakuya considered the plausible range of options-- "yes"; "yes, please"; "oh god please now don't ever stop"-- but steeled himself for the sake of principle. "First, I think, I would like to know whom you have kissed before me."

Hiyoko smiled. "Just one boy. A long time ago. And it didn't feel like this."

"I shold hope not. Where did he kiss you?"

Her smile widened impishly. "Where did we kiss? Sitting in a tree. It's traditional."

"You know what I mean."

"Just on the mouth. That's all."

He couldn't stop looking at her mouth. The moist, parted curve of her lips, the fleeting glimpses of her tongue as she teased him.... "So only here." He touched his lips to hers again, but only briefly. "Not here?" He nuzzled along her cheek toward her ear, and the soft tangle of her hair.

"No, not there. Come back here."

"What about here?" Down the curve of her jaw and along her neck.

"No, he didn't kiss me there either."

"Here?"

"No. Sakuya, what are you-- oooooh."

Her joking resistance suddenly melted. So this must be what Yuuya referred to as "the vampire target"-- the delicate angle where the side of the neck met the shoulder. As he nipped harder, she started to coil and writhe beneath his chest. He slid a hand up between them and shoved her blouse up.

Her skin... so smooth... and her breasts... how much farther could he push her before he lost it himself? Her breast was soft against his tongue, but her nipple was startlingly hard. So was he. He could do this. He could get her to make that sound again, if he tried.

Playing the ocarina had never been this exciting.

\---

Some time later, the fire had nearly burned out. Hiyoko considered fetching more wood, but that would require moving.

"So," Sakuya said rather smearily, "you were never kissed in any of these other places before me, by that other boy." He lay half-curled beside her, barely propped up on one elbow. He sounded smug, though also drained.

"Nope. Congratulations. You should have brought little flags to plant in your trail."

"Who was it? Do I know him?"

"Are you jealous about something I did when I was six years old?"

He seemed to consider this. "Yes. I am. I wish to find him and challenge him to a duel. Swords at dawn, to the death."

"Do you really know how to fight with swords?"

"Of course. Both fencing and kendo."

"In that case, I definitely won't tell you. I don't want you to kill Ryouta."

"You kissed _Kawara_?!"

"I told you, we were six. All we did was figure out how to get around the nose-bumping problem, and then it didn't feel very interesting so we stopped."

"...Hmph."

"So based on my experience, you are a much better kisser. And more thorough."

"Good."

"But he still looks prettier in women's clothing."


	4. Je ne regrette rien

As she passed by the music room at the end of the school day, Hiyoko peeked in, but there was no sign of Sakuya at the piano.

She'd gotten up before dawn to relight the fire, then finished her homework, caught a rabbit, and cooked it for breakfast. And all that time, he hadn't woken back up, still adorably passed out on the other side of the fire pit underneath his sleeping furs. So she'd left a warm teakettle in the embers, and just packed up and and came in to school without him. Now she had to finish her after-school duties before heading back to the cave for more kissing.

But when she reached the student council room and unlocked the door, she was surprised to see Sakuya already there. Of course he still had his own key, but he hadn't bothered with any council stuff since last week. He was sitting in the monumental chair behind the desk, paging through a book and exuding profound Napoleonic gloom.

"You look like you were trying to invade Moscow all winter," she said, shutting the door behind her. "Were you waiting for me up here all day? What've you been doing?"

He shrugged. "I came to school a few hours ago-- I ate in the cafeteria, showered in the locker room, and came here to practice. Badly." He flicked a contemptuous glance toward the pile of debris at his elbow, and the trashcan on the floor beyond it.

Practicing? The ocarina? When she set down her school bag beside the desk and picked up a piece of crumpled foil, a flicker of embarrassment nearly escaped him before subsiding into the general atmosphere of despair.

She looked at it closely, at him, and back at the condom wrapper in her hand. Whatever he'd been doing, his belt and trousers seemed very securely refastened now. "They come in flavors? They didn't tell us about that in health class."

"I must also proclaim their banana demonstration entirely inadequate. And these printed instructions contain words which I do not remember having encountered in the standardized fluency tests." He shoved aside his bilingual dictionary, making room for her to sit on the desk in front of him. "Perhaps it's just as well that Sakazaki gave me enough of these things to debauch our entire classroom en masse."

"Do you want me to try? What went wrong? And just how many of those did you go through?"

He took the wrapper from her hand and dropped it into the trashcan, then incremented the remaining wrappers off the desk in a litany of defeat. "Well, there was one that I damaged when I opened the foil with my teeth. There was one that accidentally snagged on my thumb and shot across the room. One with a distressing scent of cherry cough drops which I did not want anywhere near my flesh. The one I completely unrolled before trying to slide it on, which did not work at all. The one I put on upside-down so it wouldn't unroll properly. There was a pre-lubricated one that felt like cold slug slime. There was one which may have actually approached proper positioning, but it still felt deeply wrong and by that time, I was losing enthusiasm for the proceedings. So I gave up and decided to improve my vocabulary instead."

"Do you want me to try?" she asked again. She reached out, but Sakuya shook his head and stood up. His hair was still wet from the shower he'd taken earlier-- not dripping, but damp and cool against her cheek when he held her close.

"No. It was just... an abstract exercise for now. There was something else I wanted to ask you first." Despite his calm tone, she could feel his heart beating fast and frantic against hers, like a half-tamed bird yearning for flight. "Ever since I woke up," he said, "I have been thinking about last night. About the way your mouth felt, and the sounds you made. The scent of your hair, the way your hips moved in deep waves like an ocean. And the secret taste of your body, like crème fraîche and the air before a storm."

He barely moved while saying all of this, but his voice was a soft, velvet caress over every inch of her skin. "Oh," she managed to say. "And... what was your question?"

"Can we do that again?"

\---

Sakuya had only two regrets about the previous evening. One was that, although Hiyoko had said that she liked his hands, he hadn't actually used them very much except on himself at the end. The other was that it had been too dark to see her. Both of those omissions were being remedied right now.

She was sprawled out on the desk, her entire body awkwardly angling up against gravity as he cupped one palm over her breast, lightly tracing and circling the tender rounded curve. He could feel the intervening layers of her blouse and camisole slipping and catching together over the hard nub of her nipple. He remembered its texture against his tongue, and he dearly wanted to taste the sweat from her skin again.

But if he did that, he wouldn't be able to see her like this. The way her hair swirled back when she arched her throat, the way her elbows were flailing for traction on the smooth desk surface-- just one of his hands, so light a touch, and she was so beautifully lost.

Her breathing was already shivering into a glissando. He leaned a little closer to see her face more clearly, and just that slight shift in pressure drove her over the edge into a glorious demonstration of melismata.

And then she curled up onto her side like a cocktail shrimp and batted his hand away, panting. "Ow. Stop. Need. To breathe again."

Stricken and confused, he slumped back into the chair. "What did-- I mean, I didn't-- Have I... hurt you somehow?"

"No. But. Just stop, for a minute, okay?" He watched her pulse gradually slow back to normal as his stuttered upward. After two or three minutes, she uncurled and sat up again in a wobbly way. Her smile was affectionate, and somewhat dazed. "You, Monsieur, are dangerously good at finding the lightest finesse needed to get the maximum result. I don't know how you were doing it, but I felt like I was about to start screaming my lungs straight out of my chest into a damp blob stuck to the ceiling. Which would probably not help the soundproofing."

"Oh." Sakuya was not sure if he felt reassured or not. "Does that mean I have to stop now?"

She buried her face in her hands and started laughing. "If this is what you're like the day after your first kiss," she finally choked out, still giggling, "no wonder Yuuya's slept his way through half of his class and the other half is shoving each other out of line."

Indignantly, he burst out, "I would _never_ \--!"

To his dismay, Hiyoko just kept giggling as she slid off her seat on the desk, folding smoothly onto her knees beside him. "Shush," she said, unbuckling his belt. "Let me see what you've got in there."

"It's called a penis. I suppose I should be grateful the word was in my student dictionary," he muttered in the last few seconds before his fly went down and she reached in.

To his surprise-- or rather, disappointment-- she didn't just yank him out and start squeezing. Instead, she traced a curious fingertip down his underwear, as if stroking a kitten's nose. "Oooh," she said. "It's moving."

"Yes. It is." He twitched involuntarily again. "That tickles. You can press harder. Please."

With more confidence, she molded her hand around the growing bulge in his underwear, but then just kneaded her fingers in place. It didn't feel bad, but it wasn't enough. He wriggled his hips, trying to encourage more vertical motion. Instead, she took that as a cue to pull down his trousers. His underwear went with it, after a momentary snag of snagging on the elastic. There was a meditative silence before she touched him again, wrapping her fingers around the shaft.

"Hm," she said.

For days and nights, Sakuya had been entertaining endless fantasies about this first moment when Hiyoko would be kneeling at his feet with his naked cock in her hand, and none of them had involved her saying "Hm." At least, he didn't think they did. His available conceptual sphere was rapidly narrowing down to this exact instant of her holding him, and why in the name of everything holy wasn't she moving her hand again yet? "Hiyoko. Hiyoko, _qu'est-ce que--_ I mean, what is it?"

She seemed vaguely puzzled. "I think your penis looks weird."

"What?!" he spluttered. "What do you mean, it looks weird? How does it look weird? What are the other penises you're using as a standard for comparison, and who are they attached to?"

She stared at him with cheerful, blank incomprehension until he gritted his teeth enough to translate his entire splutter back out of French, this time adding, "Am I going to have to challenge Kawara to _two_ duels to the death?" It wasn't until this last sentence poured out of his mouth that he realized that an absolute ass he was being again.

Luckily for him, her barbarian sensibilities seemed oblivious to the potential insult. Not only that, she went back to experimentally groping him the same tentative, not-quite-tickling way. "There are penises all over the place at the public baths. It's rude to stare, so I've never had a really good look at them and I'm not sure who owns each one, but they're just, you know, sitting around and not bothering anyone. But yours looks different somehow."

"Mixed public baths? Naked?" His powers of speech were deserting him again as she finally took the hint from his squirming pelvic thrusts, and started to stroke up and down his entire length.

"You've never gone to them? Oh, I guess probably not." She added her other hand, and he groaned low in his throat just from watching her.

"Harder. Squeeze me harder, please, oh please...."

"Oh!" she suddenly said in revelatory tones, and stopped stroking. "That's why!"

He actually whimpered. Pathetic. A Le Bel should never be enslaved by his passions, he'd always been told, and now here he was as a disinherited nobody and a barbarian girl was making him whimper like a fork scraping an empty plate. Worst of all, he was enjoying it. "Aaagh. What, because mine is erect?"

"You have this extra piece of skin up here. I didn't know it could ease down like this, but once that happens, it looks less like a sea cucumber and more like a mushroom, like everyone else." By way of demonstration, she retracted his foreskin again with one hand, then kept rolling it up and down as if playing hide and seek. The slick, moist tension wasn't as smooth as something he might've done himself, but it was _Hiyoko_ doing this to him with her strong hunter-gatherer hands and her beautiful barbarity.

Her other hand resumed pumping his shaft at the base, with a firm grip that seemed to draw on all of the nerves running up through his heart. "Hey," she added, "I didn't know boys could get wet too," and rotated her palm against his glistening, doubly naked glans as if rounding out the shape of a rice dumpling.

He thought his eyes would roll all the way back into his head and tumble out the back of his skull. Helplessly, he found himself thrusting against her hands, hearing the chair creak alarmingly to punctuate whatever it was he was saying to her. "Don't stop, please don't stop! _Ne t'arrête pas, n'arrête jamais, je t'en prie-- ah, ma douce colombe, t'arrête pas!_ "

When he came, it felt like a meteor shower was burning its way out of him in a fountain of light. He crashed back to earth and collapsed in the chair, knowing only that Hiyoko was enfolding him in her arms.

\---

Hiyoko leaned her head against his shoulder, admiring the bright red flush gradually fading from his cheekbones. After a decent interval, she kissed his forehead. "Sakuya?"

"...nnnghh."

"You're going to get a neck cramp if you stay like that."

"...mmmphglhh."

"You look like you're posing for 'The Death of Marat'."

With a visible effort, he opened one eye at her, made a deliberate death-gurgle sound, stuck out his tongue, and relapsed back into immobility. Except that now, he was smiling.


	5. Tech support

Sprawling sideways out of the chair was actually quite comfortable, Sakuya thought. Though it probably helped that he was pre-dissolved into a floating haze of afterglow. And Hiyoko's shoulder was supporting some of his outward sprawl; her hair was soft against his cheek as she sat on the floor, leaning her face on the same armrest as his from the other side.

His legs were starting to get cold. He curled them up in the chair, even though one foot was still entangled in his trousers and underwear. Hiyoko made a small sound of amusement, pulled away for a moment to finish liberating the trousers from his school slippers, and then gently laid them out over his bare skin.

"Sakuya?" Her voice, too, seemed to float as softly as a feather, like her hand resting on his shirt. It was possible she was discreetly wiping her hand on the fabric, but if so, he didn't mind. Most of the mess was already on his shirt anyway, judging from the rapidly cooling splotches lower down.

"...Mmmph?"

"I didn't know you could smile like this."

"Nonsense." He kissed whatever part of Hiyoko's face was next to him. Her eyebrow, perhaps. "I smile all the time."

"Not so much, recently-- but even before then, when you smiled, it looked more like armor than because you were really... happy." The last word hung in the air like a soap bubble, delicate and scintillating.

"Well then, now I am happy." He kissed her again, this time successfully finding her mouth.

"Mmm. So, um, what do you want to do now?"

Reluctantly, Sakuya said, "Perhaps I ought to put my pants back on."

She sighed, rather wistfully. This made him happy too. "You're probably right. Um. I'm going to go wash my hands, and then I think I'd better tackle the student council stuff. And finish all of my homework while I'm here, so I won't have to worry about it later tonight. If you know what I mean."

At first he didn't, and then he did. He sat up, and tried to stagger back into his pants with all deliberate speed. She pushed him back into the chair as she stood. "Just stay there for now-- I'll bring you back a damp handkerchief from the washroom. Otherwise, judging from the inside of my sleeve, you're going to end up awfully sticky in there."

\---

Yuuya looked up from his inventory list at the open infirmary door. Sakuya had his classical marble statue face on again, just like old times. This was probably a good sign, compared to the rather frozen, bewildered blankness from the past week of occasional sightings around school.

"Sakazaki. I have some questions for you."

"Bonjour, little brother! Do come in. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Don't mock me," Sakuya said levelly, closing the door behind him. "You know very well that I've been disinherited."

"And we both know how much I've always valued Monsieur Le Bel's opinion," Yuuya shrugged. "But if you insist, then I shall ask instead: to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? For I am pleased to see you, truly." He leaned against the supply cabinet and waited. Nothing. "Well, what did you wish to ask me? Maman wants to send money, if you'll accept it."

"I'm not here to ask for charity."

"Because you're here to ask me some questions, yes, you've said that. Ask away. Ask anything. I can't promise that I'll assent to whatever it is, but I shall certainly entertain the request. First aid? A brotherly embrace? Laundry service?"

Sakuya curled a protective arm over the damp patch on his shirt and reached back toward the doorknob. "I knew this was a mistake," he snarled.

"It's about Miss Tousaka, isn't it?"

Sakuya's hand stopped in mid-air. "How did you know?"

Yuuya shrugged again. "Well, you clearly have no wish to speak to me on your own behalf, so it must be something that concerns her instead. Yes?"

"Yes," Sakuya muttered. He slumped into a chair.

"...And?"

Sakuya's glance flicked up and away like a duellist's salute. "Sakazaki. You were born and raised in France like me, correct?"

"Mais oui."

"And so..." Instead of fidgeting, Sakuya became even more withdrawn and nearly motionless. "So you're not circumcised either."

"Mais non. But then, neither are most people in this country. What of it?"

Sakuya stared at him, making prolonged eye contact at last. "They aren't? But--"

"If you speak of casual sidelong glances, it's the custom here for men to keep the foreskin pushed back along the shaft at all times. So it's still there, but not as obviously in view. It chafes a bit at first, but one soon becomes accustomed to it."

This did produce a very small visible squirm from Sakuya.

"So why this sudden interest in comparative anatomy? Indeed, I expect everyone in this school has foreskins, even the ladies if you count the dainty calyx around the _bouton de rose_. Though usually by the time one finds that, it's already bursting out into bloom, and a good thing too."

The squirm crystallized back into nervous paralysis.

Yuuya sighed. "So, has Miss Tousaka formed some complaint against your foreskin? Is she alarmed by its appearance? Are you washing under it regularly? Is it unable to retract? Is it rearing up and attacking her like the hood of a cobra? Or must I continue to rattle on about foreskins until I randomly hit upon whatever question you are refusing to ask me? Foreskin foreskin foreskin. There. I'm tired of talking about them already, unless you direct the conversation." He folded his arms. There was another long silence.

"...Sakazaki?"

"Yes?"

"I hate you."

"Yes, I know. Speak up or go away. I have work to do." Yuuya went back to his inventory list, checking the infirmary supplies for items running out of stock or out of date.

Sakuya remained silent and seated for nearly two more pages of checklist until he finally spoke up. "The health class demonstration. With the banana."

Yuuya decoded this easily. "I see. The banana had no foreskin, and you don't know how to apply the condom around yours, is that it? I do hope the two of you haven't been galloping about bareback. I'm much too young to become an uncle."

There was an audible creak from Sakuya's chair as his hand clenched around the armrest. "Why am I even speaking to you about this?"

"Because," Yuuya said very gently, "you don't have anyone else to ask. Look. These matters are quite awkward enough on their own; I don't think their presentation is being enhanced by this antiseptic white room. And I do have work to do here. Go clear your mind for a while, and afterward, we can continue this discussion in a more congenial setting where pretty waitresses can bring us coffee and delicious pastries. Yes?"

"Very well," Sakuya finally said. "I'll be in the music room whenever you're finished here."

"Excellent. Miss Tousaka can join us too, should you care to invite her."

"Absolutely not."

\---

Sakuya didn't get back to the cave until Hiyoko was most of the way through her supper. She finished slurping up her mouthful of noodles as he sat down by the fire. "So," she asked, "how was the talk with Yuuya?"

"He had a great deal of helpful advice." Sakuya's expression was unreadable. Maybe it just meant he was still digesting all of the information, possibly via meticulous mental flashcards. Or maybe not.

"There's still some rabbit broth. Should I cook more udon?"

"Thank you, but no." He was absently kneading his fingers, so she poured out a cup of tea and pushed it over to him. He wrapped his hands around the warm pottery, but only took a sip or two. "I had several cups of _chocolat chaud_. It was quite good. I will buy some for you if I can bring myself to enter that establishment ever again."

"Did he give you a live tabletop demonstration of condoms or something?"

"In fact, he did. He used an empty bud vase, we were in a secluded corner, and he even asked one of the waitresses to stand nearby to screen us from view. But still. He had to show off with an instant one-handed maneuver at first, then demonstrated a slower one with both hands, and finally made me try it myself while he watched and critiqued. Repeatedly. He even offered to show me how to apply a condom with one's mouth, but I declined. I had not realized he was quite that... flexible."

Hiyoko shoved the last of her udon into her mouth, stifling a grin. "He does have his reputation to live up to."

"Or down to, rather." Sakuya swirled the tea in his cup, staring down into it. "Speaking of which, he gave me a very strange, spontaneous lecture about how technically, this cave and the surrounding hunting grounds have territorial sovereignty, and that even Kawara has not entered its boundaries for years. And that despite his own extensive... circle of acquaintance, he himself has never heard a breath of scandal about you, and that you are showing me a quite unprecedented degree of trust by letting me stay here at all. As if he thought I did not already regard you with-- with the very highest consideration and respect."

It was hard to tell in the firelight, but Hiyoko thought he might be blushing again. "Sakuya?"

"Yes?"

"You are wildly inconsistent at romantic prattle. If you're not going to drink your tea, do you want to just put it down and come over here for more kissing?"

The fire hissed and crackled as spilled tea splattered into it. He sprang to her like a leaping deer, and his mouth tasted of chocolate and desperate desire.

\---

A damp rosebud stem on a white tablecloth. The clink and stir of coffee cups elsewhere in the room. The frilly apron straps of the waitress decoratively loitering in front of their corner booth, just out of earshot. "Et voilà, little brother. With the additional foreskin logistics, this may be a three-handed manuever for you the first few times, but no doubt your beloved will be happy to assist. If she is not, you should not be doing this. Don't put it on until you are at full attention and she is ready to welcome you in. Afterward, take it off at once so it does not loosen and spill."

"But... how do I know if she is ready?"

"A preliminary orgasm is always good for her relaxation and general morale. Ask her if she's willing to take the lead and mount you from above so she can control the pace."

"Is that all?"

"You want more detailed instructions? Very well then. You may wish to slip your fingers up into her to approximate your own size beforehand. Do trim your fingernails first. If she seems too small, then slowly wiggle and flex your fingers until you can fit enough of them inside. Ask her if it feels good, or if it does not. And after you ask, listen. Listen to her words, or whatever wordless sounds are coming from her mouth. The way she is breathing, or whether her juices are flowing enough to squelch against your tongue like the delicious poached apricots in this fruit compote. Perhaps if there are delectable little popcorn noises behind you as her toes clench and curl and try to drag you closer. It's not complicated at all."

"...Sakazaki, I hate you."

Yuuya's wry smile from across the table. "Little brother. There is no shame in not wanting to hurt her. Cheer up. The condom may reduce your sensations, but it will help you last longer. Perhaps that way, you won't spurt and collapse five seconds after your very first touch of that lovely molten kiss around you. As I did."

\---

Hiyoko had bitten Sakuya's shoulder again during her first orgasm of the evening, and his scalp still twinged from when she'd locked her teeth into his hair during her second or third one. He wanted her to keep biting him all over if it meant he could keep making her come. But for now, he was out of bite range; when he glanced up for a moment, she had her wrist crammed sideways into her mouth and was discreetly screaming around it. He backed off to uncramp his jaw and wipe his face on his sleeve, and she whimpered and trembled like a baby bird wanting to be fed.

\---

"...So if she's had no other partners before you, as it seems, then I imagine that her facility with orgasms was gained during a great deal of free time living alone. Which will make things easy for you in some ways, but not in others-- her body already knows how to respond, but she may not know the best way to move in concert with you. You may need to tease her into learning to dance. Instead of diving straight in, just barely touch her so that she must move her hips for more." The rosebud stem now upright in Yuuya's hand, delicately shimmying and surging the petals up against his flaring nostrils.

"Her own sweet _bouton de rose_ should bloom up from hiding in due time. You can ease back its little foreskin-calyx if you are very careful, but if the sensation is too intense, it may feel like pain to her. It is possible to push her through that and out the other side into whirlwind, lightning, and apocalypse, but I do not advise that until you are both more familiar with the basics."

\---

Hiyoko had never really thought about it, but one problem with being Buddhist was that she didn't have anything obvious to scream out on this sort of occasion. So instead, she just made a lot of incoherent primal noises and occasionally managed to gasp out Sakuya's name. As she ground her clit up against the flickering tip of his tongue, he had two long, elegant fingers buried all the way inside her now, stroking and pressing upward as if to beckon her toward him.

_Come to me, Hiyoko. Closer. Come closer. Come to me now. Come. Come. Come._

\---

"...Sakazaki?"

"Yes, I know. You hate me." Yuuya's espresso cup raised in a toast.

"No. I mean, yes, but... but no. Not truly. I-- thank you for all of this."

"Have I answered all of your questions?"

"I... wasn't even certain what to ask. But I think you've told me everything I wanted to know. And possibly somewhat more."

"I'm certain it will all be useful to you someday, little brother. Maybe even tonight, if all goes well. And with that, I bid you adieu for the evening, since I see my favorite waitress is now reporting for duty-- bonsoir, ma belle Coolene!"


	6. Troubleshooting

Hiyoko's enclosed sleeping alcove was warm and dark, almost stifling after several hours of naked thrashing on the open cave floor. She cuddled close to Sakuya under the furs, enjoying her growing familiarity with his body language even if the exact message wasn't the best one at the moment: tense and embarrassed, but too exhausted to do anything about it. Now if she could just convince him not to crawl out of the cave and fling himself off the cliff, everything would work out fine.

"We can try again later," she offered. "I think you just overdid it, so I ended up too orgasmed out to sit up straight. Not that I mind."

He still wouldn't turn back toward her, nearly locked into a curled-up configuration like a dead bug. She'd practically had to roll him into the alcove this way. His voice was partially muffled from tucking his chin into his half-opened shirt, which was all he was wearing right now except for his socks. He muttered, "At least when you phrase things that way, I feel less selfish about it. Perhaps it's unreasonable of me to feel selfish about how much I enjoy making you come. Even if that contributed to my filling the condom too early when you were trying to crawl on top of me, with your breasts sliding up over my thighs and belly. Except for something that-- that he said..."

"You mean Yuuya?"

Sakuya tangibly flinched. "I don't even want to think his name right now. But yes, him. He told me to remember that I'm not making you come, in the sense of truly making your orgasm by myself, of creating it out of nothing and bestowing it onto you like tying a bow around your head. Rather, it's a gift that you're sharing with me, and I should be honored and grateful for that. Except that I can't help but keep thinking of it almost like learning a musical instrument, where one becomes familiar with the way it feels in your hands, and how it responds, and what it wants to sound like. But you're not an... an ocarina. You're you. And I am not making any sense at all, so please just club me over the head and leave me to die."

"No." Hiyoko kissed him, a lingering taste of the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck. "You'll have to settle for living. And eventually more orgasms. I do think you are being selfish not to let me try some oral sex on you yet, if you're having this much fun with it. Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agreed, and yawned massively.

\---

She woke somewhat later as he restlessly shifted about. "Sakuya?" she mumbled. "Are ants biting you or something?"

"No. I can't sleep. I am sorry."

"What time is it?"

"I have no idea."

"...You know, I bet it's past midnight."

"Perhaps."

"That would mean that now it's tomorrow. Can we restart again?"

Sakuya sat up very suddenly and started frantically groping around in the furs. "Where is that envelope?"

"Here. Do you want some help?"

"No." He opened a small flap of the alcove curtain, letting in some reflected moonlight and cold air. Goosebumps rose all over his skin, but his face and hands were steady as he opened a condom, held it up to the light, pinched the tip closed, and rolled it on in one smooth motion. The curtain closed again, and he reached for Hiyoko in the darkness, pulling her onto him as he leaned back into the furs.

She'd been hoping for more warmup exercises first, but she felt soft and sleepy and affectionate enough to go along with it. But when he grabbed her hips and tried to thrust his cock up into her, it bounced sideways into her thigh. He made a panicky squawk and another attempt, until she shifted her weight and sat on his legs. "Sakuya. Lie down and stop moving so I can figure this out up here."

He didn't answer, but he stopped thrashing around and just quietly hyperventilated under her instead. She got his rubberized cock in hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It throbbed, and he stopped breathing for a moment. She rose back onto her knees, checked out her own parts with her other hand, discovered that her labia were lightly stuck together, and wrangled them apart. "Okay. I think we're open for business now. Are you ready?"

Still no words, but he wasn't trying to escape. So it was probably okay to go ahead. Slowly, carefully, Hiyoko shimmied her weight down onto him... and got Sakuya about an inch inside her before getting hung up on something again. His hand curled around her right knee, but without trying to push or pull her anywhere. He only seemed to want something to hang on to.

Hm. So what was the problem this time? She was definitely still wet inside from earlier, but maybe the surface stickiness was the issue. Since the head of his cock was already in the right neighborhood, she tried moving it around as a sort of applicator to spread the wetness outward. His other hand clutched her left ankle and his hips jerked sharply, but he didn't say anything unless a frustrated simmering teakettle noise low in his throat counted as words.

All righty. This was doable. Probably. External obstacles out of the way, surface lubrication in place, docking maneuvers recommenced. She got a little further this time, but the vague zone of impasse was still in effect. And when she tried to push down harder, the slickness pushed him right back out again. Drat.

"Sakuya? Do you remember how many fingers you ended up getting inside me? I lost count."

He went perfectly motionless, and Hiyoko got a distinct sense that he was struggling to form coherent words, or for that matter, numbers. Silently, he withdrew his hand from her knee and then pressed his fingers back against her skin one at a time: one, two, three.

"So it shouldn't be a size problem, should it? Though wait a moment..." She squeezed his fingers together in her hand to check their combined girth, and then rechecked that against his actual cock. It throbbed harder this time, and he grabbed her wrist. He whispered something quiet, urgent, and utterly incomprehensible in vocabulary, although the meaning behind it seemed clear enough.

He let go immediately. So did she. Why on earth wasn't this working yet? "I'm sorry, Sakuya, I'm not trying to torture you, it's just-- I don't know how to do this either. I'm sorry," she repeated, and sighed.

And as she sighed, she sank a little deeper down onto him. Surprised, she tensed up and accidentally squeezed him back out. This prompted another burst of incomprehensible urgent French, this time in tones suggesting eloquent existential despair.

"No, wait, it's okay," she tried to reassure him. "I think it's a Zen thing, where not-trying gets us farther than trying too hard. Just try not to move for now. Please?"

Eloquent, profound existential despair.

"Please?"

And resignation to an inevitable and yet welcome fate of being clubbed over the head and left to die.

"I'll take that as a yes. Think calm floaty thoughts," Hiyoko suggested, and got everything back into place before forcibly relaxing. She envisioned herself as an autumn leaf, gently detaching from the top of a tall tree and drifting downward. Weightless free-fall in a light, light breeze, as slow and silent as her own breathing.

His hand touched her ankle again, then wrapped around it as tenderly as if cradling an egg. She'd been wondering if the random French commentary would continue, but instead he only took a deep gasp and whispered a single soft, shivering vowel. "...ohhhh...."

This felt stretchy and strange, and something still pinched a little bit, but not enough to stop. He was lightly trembling all over, without any dramatic large-scale movements except for twitching once or twice inside her. The twitching felt good, but she had to stay focused on relaxing for now. She shifted her knees farther up along his sides as she knelt lower and lower, taking in his entire length at last.

At that point, she realized she hadn't really thought out what to do next, but it seemed like a good idea to finish leaning down and kiss his mouth. So she did.

\---

Calm floaty Zen sex was a terrible idea, Sakuya thought despairingly, except that it was actually working better than anything else had so far. Beforehand, he'd promised himself to fend off his own orgasm until she had at least one, but now that he was about halfway into Hiyoko, he thought it might require divine intervention to keep himself from coming before she sank all the way down onto him. This was even more terrifying than being attacked by ninja ghosts at the school festival.

Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. Poached apricots did not nearly describe how good it felt to slide into her, though it wasn't a bad start. So meltingly sweet and juicy, with all those buttery-soft surfaces sliding and turning around him... but the intoxicating heat engulfing him was more like gulping vin chaud. With extra honey, cinnamon and cognac. A whole bottle of cognac.

If this was what sex felt like through an allegedly sensation-deadening condom, then if he ever tried it without one, he would probably die of bliss on the spot.

Concentrate. He needed to concentrate on something. He rejected the kana chart as too suggestive, considering how carefully he'd licked all of the hiragana into her one stroke at a time. He tried reviewing the jōyō kanji, but immediately had to bail when just counting to three caused a dangerous surge in his system.

There had to be some way to make himself stop baffling her with French. Couldn't he choke out at least one semi-reasonable sentence in Japanese? Damn this language and all of its different pronouns and particles and things. _Anata_ was too formal, but _kimi_ should fit. Did he need his own pronoun, or should that be obvious from context? What was the right verb to describe a heartbeat? No wait, that was a sound effect, wasn't it? " _Kimi no kokoro wa dokidoki wo kanjirareru_ "? Would that be right for " _Je peux sentir ton coeur battre_ "?

Abruptly, he realized that he had successfully distracted himself, because he was now all the way in and she was kissing him. He decided to avoid trying to say anything at all or it would probably come out as "My hovercraft is full of eels", which seemed very wrong for this occasion.

"Hiyoko," he whispered into her mouth.

It felt like she was smiling. Smiling was good. So was feeling her warm, soft weight on his chest, and her heartbeat thrumming through his entire cock from the outside in, and the slow, steady internal pressure of her breathing... except maybe that last part wasn't good, because if she could be so calm about this, did it mean she wasn't enjoying it? Was that just her normal wetness seeping out onto his balls, or was she catastrophically bleeding onto him, and why couldn't ninjas appear and conveniently kill him now before things got any worse?

Carefully, he extended one arm to push a bunched-up piece of bedding into the alcove curtain, propping it open again for some light. She really was smiling, though now with a somewhat questioning air. Maybe he should try to sit up for a better look?

"Sakuya, what are you-- oh!"

He lurched up onto his elbows, sparking a chain reaction. Her weight shifted backward, grinding her more deeply onto him. She moaned and tensed, squeezing him harder; he grabbed her hips, thrusting erratically. A jumble of random thoughts shot through him, scattered through the boiling delirium. He didn't know how to move the right way either. Her arms were strong enough to keep both of them from falling over. He'd thought that it felt good from the _outside_ to make her come. This was a much better view of her gorgeous orgasm face than from down below. People really did grunt out "unf unf unf" noises, including him. Even if he tried to muffle them around her nipple. She was biting his hair again. And he wasn't completely certain whether she'd finished coming or what he was saying to her, but there was no way on heaven or earth that he could possibly stop himself now.

\---

Hiyoko lay quietly collapsed onto Sakuya's chest, wondering whether she'd scrambled her brains into a thin layer of tamagoyaki. Next time, she told herself, she should try to flex her neck in counterbalance with her body, instead of shaking her entire head around with everything else.

Another aftershock rippled through her. She whimpered. So did he, and wriggled one hand down between them. "I need to remove this thing now, before it leaks."

Reluctantly, she flopped off him to the side, weakly fanning herself with cold fresh air from the gap in the curtain. He peeled off the condom with an aftershocky shudder of his own, tied it into a knot, and gingerly pushed the small rubbery thing out onto the floor of the main cave.

She cuddled against his back again, wrapping an arm around his chest. His shirt was damp all over, and it felt like they'd popped off another button. He folded his arm over hers, bringing her hand up to his mouth to breathe kisses onto it.

"Mmm." She nuzzled her face between his shoulderblades. "I think we worked it out after all."

"The basics, perhaps. We may need more practice to become really good at it."

"Lots of practice. And maybe more supplies. Like a dry towel to catch leakage. That wet spot is really cold, and these sleeping furs can't really stand up to vigorous scrubbing."

"I shall make appropriate inquiries," Sakuya gravely said. "My brother did volunteer some assistance with laundry service."

"And keeping a damp washcloth nearby for the stickiness problem afterward. I'm turning into a glazed donut down here. Not that I'm complaining about how I got that way, but... stickiness."

"I would be happy to assist you with that myself. After a suitable recovery period."

"Oh no you don't. I thought it was my turn to try oral sex." Hiyoko lazily wormed upward and licked his earlobe.

" _Je t'implore grâce, ma colombe_. You have gloriously drained me for the moment. And perhaps we should attempt a few hours of sleep before dawn." Laboriously, as if they were both under fathoms' weight of water, he turned onto his back and pulled her closer to pillow her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, all right then. I don't know what you just said, but I'm sure it is a crushingly logical refutation." Her own eyelids were already getting heavy, but she could see that he was smiling again. "By the way," she added, "what does ' _Mon aéroglisseur est plein d'anguilles_ ' mean? Is it wildly romantic?"

"Believe me, you have no idea," he said, and kissed her.


End file.
